So in celebration of St. Patricks Day I decided to make corn beef and cabbage. I don't know what possessed me to do this since I would rather have just about any meal but meat, potatoes, cabbage and carrots and the fact that all of these were combined in one recipe was never something that was appealing to me. But I found the recipe online and it had great reviews so I made it anyway.
The recipe was actually quite yummy but one night for dinner was good enough for me. I doubled the recipe because I was having company over and thought Jake would like the leftovers for his lunches. These are all just minor details of the dinner experience but where the real story lies is in the preparation for this meal. Some of you may not know this, but I have this fetish with cooking with beer. Maybe is just makes me feel a little bit edgy sometimes. I don't really know. But it always seems to bring in lots of flavor. So it should be no surprise that I chose the recipe that asked for a good beer to soak and brine it with. My experience with alcoholic beverages has been somewhat limited. My first and last drink was when I was about seven. My Dad was a casual drinker and enjoyed a good beer after work. I thought that I might enjoy this too and asked for a sip. He gave me his mug that would chill in the freezer all day in preparation of this nightly ritual. I could not wait to try this mysterious drink and when the liquid hit my taste buds I thought my life would be over. Never in my life had I tasted something so horrible, except potatoes and other vegetables in my opinion and I am sure that I made an unforgettable "bitter beer face". I sprinted to the sink across the room and spit it out like Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park. My Dad almost peed his pants from laughing and I couldn't quite understand why my Father would want something every night that was so distant from my Orange Hi-C box drinks and Nestle Quick. Needless to say that I haven't had a beer since and so I needed some advice in picking out something with a good flavor (if that really exists with beer).
The great wisdom came from Sonja, a co-worker of mine. She let me know that a dark beer would be preferable and that she recommended a brand called Guinness. I had never heard of this brand but saw that Smith's had some on sale in their add and I would hit up the grocer that weekend. Well this all happened on Wednesday, which happens to be the night of Young Women's. At our activity we learned how to write talks for about a 1/2 hour and I spent the rest of the night playing Rock Band and singing Beat It by Michael Jackson. I have the best calling in the world! Well during my rock and roll debut my phone received a text message. One of the YW let me know and I asked her to tell me who it was from. She replied "Sonja".
Now Sonja has never sent me an inappropriate text message before as I am somewhat of her boss and she is a very professional person. However, as the YW read the text she said, "I have a Guinness in my fridge and can bring it for you tomorrow". The YW was much more knowledgeable than I and she obviously knew this brand of beer and gave me one of those parental looks. The one that says, "Lyndzi, do you want to try and explain yourself". I was so embarrassed. Here I am singing like a rocker in front of all the youth and trying to reason why my co-worker was bringing me a can of Guinness. I was so embarrassed. Luckily they trust me and know that even though I was singing in a rock band that night, at least I wouldn't be getting plastered at the office.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
My biggest weekness besides chips and dips
I have been dreading the day but knew it would be here soon. But all summer I could feel it coming. First is started with a weakening around the knees and then a soft thin spot on my boney but. I tried to ignore it but in the back of my mind I knew that all good things must come to an end and then it happened. I knelt down to pick up my car keys and "RIP"! A slight hole in the knee! Another favorite pair of jeans gone. These aren't just any jeans either. They are the pair that you know you look good in. The kind that fit your curves just right and in my case make me look like I actually have hips and a but. The kind that are broken in and meet your every need that you ever had from a good pair of jeans. I don't know who came up with the low rise boot cut with the two tone thread color but whoever did was sent by angels. Yes some say that diamonds are a girls best friend but I beg to differ. I think it is a magical pair of jeans.
You women know what I am talking about. You search store after store after store. Trying on the skinny jean, the flare jean, the distressed jean, the blue jean, the washed jean, the dark navy jean. You look for hipster, boot cut, low rise, boyfriend, straight leg. The pockets with white thread, blue thread, buttons, rhinestones, and stitching patterns. The long, the short, the regular. You ask yourself, "Will I wear these jeans with heels? Will I wear these jeans with flip flops?" They must be so versatile. Will they look great with a hoodie and sneakers but then when I don't have time to wash them can I dress them up with heels and a cute classy top? THERE IS SO MUCH PRESSURE!!
And so you keep on searching the mall, checking for color first, then cut, then price tag. You try on the cheap ones the expensive ones and the in between ones, praying that the expensive ones aren't it. You continue trying one pair after another, after anotherand with every pair you try on you must readjust and tuck the garments back down to your knees and zip them up and fix your shirt and then your hair and prepare yourself for the mirror as if you had been in them all day. You check the length, and then the side shot and then the deciding factor shot, the biggest dressing room moment.... the but check. You akwardly turn your torso backwards to the mirror while keeping your hips pointed forward and during this crisis that would appear to men to be a Yoga exercise routine, you try and check out your rear and see what everyone else looks at when your back is turned. Somehow we think that by turning at this weird angle our rear will look perfectly normal and that this is how it will always be looked at. You hit every store, even the ones for young 14 year old girls and irronically the only ones you like are the ones with the highest price tag and you ask yourself, "What in the H--- does the $88.00 jeans have that the $19.99 ones on the clearance rack don't!? Are they not the same material with the same similar fabric layout"? Do they not both have functioning pockets in the front and the back? Are they not both blue and the right size and then you decide, No! No, they aren't the same jeans and you need the $88.00 jeans and it takes all your will power to walk out of the store because the one pair that fits you right and makes your but look cute and your legs look slim and your man turn his head when you walk by him are too much for your checkbook and so you are so proud of yourself and how strong you were.
So you go home that night and you can't quit thinking about those jeans and you begin to justify spending the $88.00 because the right pair of jeans do so much more than cover you up and keep you modest. They must be a great quality to endure all that you put them through and they must make you feel attractive, youthful, sexy and beautiful with an instant boost of confidence in each step because you know that whatever magic the mass producing Tailor who sewed them did was worth every penny. And if any of you even pretend for a minute you don't think about this, you are lying to yourselves and I know deep down that you really understand why I did the unthinkable today.
Yes I didn't just buy one pair of ridiculously expensive, unrealistically priced and loaded with little fraying distressed marks all over them, which made them looked used pair of jeans but I bought TWO OF THEM! AAAAAAhhhhhh! What was I thinking? Not one but two!
Yes, I got the coupon this morning and printed it at work with toner that isn't even for my personal use. I saw the buy one pair and get one half off. And I totally had control over that but then the e-mail coupon gave me $25.00 off my next purchase which was just too much. I turned to my little ten key calculator and ran some quick numbers and I decided that this was a bargain. It was a deal that overall was still too overpriced for a pair of jeans. But I broke down, I gave in and I spent my lunch break speeding to the mall and saw this moment as the high lite of my week. The moment in which I would make the big purchase and all this emotion is triggered by this so called fabric called "denim" that if correctly cut and tailored can make a girl feel so good, so irresistible and so confident all at the same time. Would I do it again? I would tell you no, but then I would be lying through my teeth. Yes! Yes, I would and it was so worth it. Every dime and I will wear them for the next week straight. So until my boney but and knees wear holes in these pair I am safe and I will have one more year of sanity because there is no greater comfort from something so materialistic then the perfect pair of jeans!
You women know what I am talking about. You search store after store after store. Trying on the skinny jean, the flare jean, the distressed jean, the blue jean, the washed jean, the dark navy jean. You look for hipster, boot cut, low rise, boyfriend, straight leg. The pockets with white thread, blue thread, buttons, rhinestones, and stitching patterns. The long, the short, the regular. You ask yourself, "Will I wear these jeans with heels? Will I wear these jeans with flip flops?" They must be so versatile. Will they look great with a hoodie and sneakers but then when I don't have time to wash them can I dress them up with heels and a cute classy top? THERE IS SO MUCH PRESSURE!!
And so you keep on searching the mall, checking for color first, then cut, then price tag. You try on the cheap ones the expensive ones and the in between ones, praying that the expensive ones aren't it. You continue trying one pair after another, after anotherand with every pair you try on you must readjust and tuck the garments back down to your knees and zip them up and fix your shirt and then your hair and prepare yourself for the mirror as if you had been in them all day. You check the length, and then the side shot and then the deciding factor shot, the biggest dressing room moment.... the but check. You akwardly turn your torso backwards to the mirror while keeping your hips pointed forward and during this crisis that would appear to men to be a Yoga exercise routine, you try and check out your rear and see what everyone else looks at when your back is turned. Somehow we think that by turning at this weird angle our rear will look perfectly normal and that this is how it will always be looked at. You hit every store, even the ones for young 14 year old girls and irronically the only ones you like are the ones with the highest price tag and you ask yourself, "What in the H--- does the $88.00 jeans have that the $19.99 ones on the clearance rack don't!? Are they not the same material with the same similar fabric layout"? Do they not both have functioning pockets in the front and the back? Are they not both blue and the right size and then you decide, No! No, they aren't the same jeans and you need the $88.00 jeans and it takes all your will power to walk out of the store because the one pair that fits you right and makes your but look cute and your legs look slim and your man turn his head when you walk by him are too much for your checkbook and so you are so proud of yourself and how strong you were.
So you go home that night and you can't quit thinking about those jeans and you begin to justify spending the $88.00 because the right pair of jeans do so much more than cover you up and keep you modest. They must be a great quality to endure all that you put them through and they must make you feel attractive, youthful, sexy and beautiful with an instant boost of confidence in each step because you know that whatever magic the mass producing Tailor who sewed them did was worth every penny. And if any of you even pretend for a minute you don't think about this, you are lying to yourselves and I know deep down that you really understand why I did the unthinkable today.
Yes I didn't just buy one pair of ridiculously expensive, unrealistically priced and loaded with little fraying distressed marks all over them, which made them looked used pair of jeans but I bought TWO OF THEM! AAAAAAhhhhhh! What was I thinking? Not one but two!
Yes, I got the coupon this morning and printed it at work with toner that isn't even for my personal use. I saw the buy one pair and get one half off. And I totally had control over that but then the e-mail coupon gave me $25.00 off my next purchase which was just too much. I turned to my little ten key calculator and ran some quick numbers and I decided that this was a bargain. It was a deal that overall was still too overpriced for a pair of jeans. But I broke down, I gave in and I spent my lunch break speeding to the mall and saw this moment as the high lite of my week. The moment in which I would make the big purchase and all this emotion is triggered by this so called fabric called "denim" that if correctly cut and tailored can make a girl feel so good, so irresistible and so confident all at the same time. Would I do it again? I would tell you no, but then I would be lying through my teeth. Yes! Yes, I would and it was so worth it. Every dime and I will wear them for the next week straight. So until my boney but and knees wear holes in these pair I am safe and I will have one more year of sanity because there is no greater comfort from something so materialistic then the perfect pair of jeans!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Elsmore/Boyakin Family Reunion
Since we don't have our own little ones we thought we would share the ones that our important to us. Here are all our nieces and nephews, or as Jake calls them, "los ninos".Friday, July 3, 2009
Grandma Lucy Irene Garner Mortenson
Today is one year since Grandma’s funeral. Jake and Brodi are gone on a dirt bike riding trip so it is just Cleo and me here alone. Last night I prayed before I went to bed that God would give me comfort and protection while they were away. I feel that he might have sent Grandma to do that. So here I am at 5:00 AM on Friday morning putting this down as a journal entry because I feel it is important to record this occasion.
I woke up this morning after a dream that I had. I don’t remember all the details but it was a holiday and I had seen everyone but Grandma Irene. In the dream I wasn’t expecting her and had doubts that she would come. Maybe this is because she had passed away. I’m not sure and dreams don’t make sense so I won’t try and figure it out. However, she did come and I saw her and ran upstairs because I had no gifts for her. I did however find something and scrambled to wrap this gift. The item I was wrapping were the scriptures she had given me the day I got baptized when I was eight years old, 20 years ago. Now this was interesting because I have another set of scriptures that I use more often than these but these were the ones that Grandma gave me. Well she caught me wrapping her gift before it was done and I begged for her apologies because I didn’t know she was coming. She took me in her arms and embraced me and just held me why I sobbed and let her know how much I missed her. I was so sorry and I loved her. This was uncontrollable sobbing in the dream and the first time that I have cried like that since her death. The emotion I was feeling in the dream caused me to wake up. I laid in bed staring into the dark after the dream. I felt her presence with me. I felt her around me and I said a silent prayer in my heart to her that I was grateful that she lived her life so that I can see her again. I will be able to expect her to come and we will be able to embrace each other again. This is so comforting to me.
This week I found a picture taken of Grandma Irene, Mom and myself all at the Ogden Temple the day I got received my own endowment. This picture is so important to me because it is my glimpse into the eternities. Some may remember the words I spoke at her funeral. I felt they were beautiful. I studied and prayed and prepared that talk more than any other time in my life. I had many compliments on the talk and many people requested for me to speak at his/her own funeral. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Although this was flattering, I am telling you that it was not me speaking at the funeral that day. I was filled with the Spirit of God and guided in my words by my Grandmother. I bore testimony of His Gospel, the resurrection, the plan of salvation and that I was sure that Grandma would be awarded the gift of eternal life. The peace I felt was because of her righteous life. I know where she will be. I know where she is now. Families are eternal and so is the relationship I have with Grandma.
I woke up this morning after a dream that I had. I don’t remember all the details but it was a holiday and I had seen everyone but Grandma Irene. In the dream I wasn’t expecting her and had doubts that she would come. Maybe this is because she had passed away. I’m not sure and dreams don’t make sense so I won’t try and figure it out. However, she did come and I saw her and ran upstairs because I had no gifts for her. I did however find something and scrambled to wrap this gift. The item I was wrapping were the scriptures she had given me the day I got baptized when I was eight years old, 20 years ago. Now this was interesting because I have another set of scriptures that I use more often than these but these were the ones that Grandma gave me. Well she caught me wrapping her gift before it was done and I begged for her apologies because I didn’t know she was coming. She took me in her arms and embraced me and just held me why I sobbed and let her know how much I missed her. I was so sorry and I loved her. This was uncontrollable sobbing in the dream and the first time that I have cried like that since her death. The emotion I was feeling in the dream caused me to wake up. I laid in bed staring into the dark after the dream. I felt her presence with me. I felt her around me and I said a silent prayer in my heart to her that I was grateful that she lived her life so that I can see her again. I will be able to expect her to come and we will be able to embrace each other again. This is so comforting to me.
This week I found a picture taken of Grandma Irene, Mom and myself all at the Ogden Temple the day I got received my own endowment. This picture is so important to me because it is my glimpse into the eternities. Some may remember the words I spoke at her funeral. I felt they were beautiful. I studied and prayed and prepared that talk more than any other time in my life. I had many compliments on the talk and many people requested for me to speak at his/her own funeral. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Although this was flattering, I am telling you that it was not me speaking at the funeral that day. I was filled with the Spirit of God and guided in my words by my Grandmother. I bore testimony of His Gospel, the resurrection, the plan of salvation and that I was sure that Grandma would be awarded the gift of eternal life. The peace I felt was because of her righteous life. I know where she will be. I know where she is now. Families are eternal and so is the relationship I have with Grandma.
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